


Subzero

by Zymm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Hoth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zymm/pseuds/Zymm
Summary: It's on Hoth where they finally confront those uneasy feelings.





	

It’s on Hoth where they finally confront those uneasy feelings.

Jyn had been ignoring it for months, pushing it down deep inside, convincing herself it was a foolish phase that would pass soon enough. It was always there, a tight knot in her stomach and a hard lump in her throat. Whenever she would see him, whether it be through quick passing or uncomfortable conversation, it would rise up in her like a shameful longing.

It had started after they were rescued from the beach on Scarif.

He was holding her close one second, one hand embracing the nape of her neck and the other firmly grasping her hand; she had felt relieved that she would die in the warm presence of her closest companion. Cassian had been breathing in her ear, rather calm and collected even in impending death. It had made a small, sad smile sneak onto her face. If anyone were to face death with grace and stubbornness, it would be captain Cassian Andor.

The next moment she had opened her eyes he had all but dragged her onto a ship, her mind and body in a state of confused shock. She had accepted the end, had prepared to embrace it with open arms. Her father, her mother- all waiting, somewhere beyond where she could see. Then she was aboard a stolen Imperial ship, Bodhi piloting with an expert calmness around him. He seemed so unphased; his face was ingrained in her brain, his look of utter concentration. It was one of the odd memories she had stored from Scarif.

Her stomach was in turmoil, and by the time they'd reached light speard, she was puking the contents of her stomach, her body too close to death to rejoice in that fact that they had made it. She heaved until there was blood, and with a grimace she stumbled down onto the dirty floor of the ship, her eyes bleary and dazed. Jyn had fallen halfway onto Cassian, who hadn't fared much better than her. But he still had a slight, heart-wrenching smile on his face. It barely reached his features, and would be virtually hidden had she not known him so well. It was infectious to her, and although she could feel her muscles screaming for rest, she felt herself smile back.

That was the last time they had an actual interaction outside of mandatory work. Something had settled in between them like a hard brick wall; there seemed to be no connection to each other outside of the common goal of the Rebellion. It was as if they were strangers to one another, even though her heart would ache painfully when she glanced at him. Her traitorous, stupidly-hopeful heart. She would remember the looks they'd shared on Scarif, the emotions passed between them, the way they held each other in what they'd expected to be the end.

It drove Jyn mad.

She supposed she understood why they avoided one another. The feeling was uncomfortable, a fear of the unknown. That want, that ache in her heart for him- it made her feel like some foolish, stupid child. It made her face blush red and her hands sweat uncomfortably, and it only provoked her anger more. She was a part of Rogue One, a hero of the rebellion- yet she had silly feelings weighing her down. It was all so mundane and childish. A Rebellion spy knew how to disguise many things, but these overwhelming feelings seemed to be a formidable foe.

She knew him well enough to know he struggled with trust just as much as she did. They both relied on no one, and it kept their jobs much more simple and successful. No ties, no hurt- it was a simple way of living and it created the best spies of the Rebellion. Those ties prevented the pain that they had both felt before. They were burned from their past, now too scared to approach the fire again.

Then these feelings had to come along, and now nothing was the same.

That feeling of the unknown was what scared them both.

They were both miserable on Hoth, though neither cared to share this with the other. Other than the occasional glance or few sentences over their Rebellion duties, interactions were kept to a disappointing minimum. It was as if they were living on two different bases, both stationed on opposite sides of the galaxy.

When they were scheduled to be on Hoth for a few weeks, Cassian had grimaced and bit his tongue. He hated the planet for its inhospitable temperatures and bland, desolate surface. It also held a few bitter memories for him; as a teen, he'd been stationed on Hoth for early stages of training. As a foolish, young teenager far too eager to join the Rebellion, he'd ended up trying to control a disobedient Tauntaun. He ended up with bruised ribs and a missing tooth, but his biggest injury was his sore ego. It wasn't his fondest memory. He could admit that it was a cleverly-placed Rebellion base, but that was where the Hoth-oriented compliments ended.

To make matters worse, his base partner happened to be the one person he was trying to escape. There would be no way they would sign her up for Hoth as well, he thought, but the Rebellion had a way of always exceeding his worst expectations.

The base they were stationed turned out to be even more disappointing than previously thought, which was just wonderful for him. He had made sure to bring along a hefty supply of alcohol, not only to stomach the dreadful planet, but to help him pretend that he was alone for his stay.

He wasn’t afraid of his feelings, he told himself. Feelings were a foolish thing to be afraid of; they were easily pushed away and manipulated to one’s desires. Death, torture, those were real fears, but the best spies could mask and eradicate those fears. Feelings? Emotions? Those were a simple fix, one of the first things an assasin learns to master.

Or so he thought.

He instead found himself at the bottom of a bottle each night trying to 'master' these feelings. They’d proven to be much more stubborn than he previously thought. It wasn’t his fault that he felt himself drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. It had slowly grown, from a slight interest to an undeniable need. He'd feel it with a burn in his chest, akin to the alcohol going down his throat. It had turned into a frustrated, angry pain, since the solution was so easily found. She was here, only a room away from him. He'd been there on Scarif, and he'd seen her eyes, felt the same emotions as she did.

But god, he was stupidly scared and hellbent on denying it.

He was fine denying it, Cassian assured himself, and he planned on keeping it up.

It was a situation good for neither of them. It would make their whole future more difficult, he reasoned. Besides, it was likely just a phase; going through such a traumatic experience with another human being would create a connection, regardless of the people. Anyone would feel a bond with a spy they'd put so much trust in.

But it had evolved into something more, and he knew it. He knew it was more than that when he started noticing the little things.

Like when she would rummage through the storage closet of their little base on the far side of Hoth, strands of her dark hair falling around her face in a messy halo. It wasn’t pretty or stylish in the furthest extent, but it was enough to take his breath away. And then she had noticed him, and seemed to find what she was looking for straight-away, rushing out of the room. He was left alone, the tiny flickering lightbulb above his head beginning to die out.

Or the time on Coruscant, when they'd been on a mission to track down an Imperial assasin hiding in the slums of the urban cityscape. They'd all been out as a team then, the Rogue One team. When they'd finally tracked the assasin, he'd put up a hell of a fight- everyone sustained minor injuries, but Jyn had been cut clean through her arm, down to the bone. It was the noise she made, a strangled yell, her hand slapping up to the gushing wound, that made Cassian move. Later, he reported to Mon Mothma directly and claimed his kill of the assasin to be an accident, since the orders had called for his return alive. But deep down, Cassian knew it wasn't an accident in the least, and it worried him that he didn't regret going against orders for her.

It was then that he knew he couldn’t stop it.

Jyn normally ate her meals alone in her quarters, reading from her datapad and tugging on her clothes for the day. It had became a routine, only adding to the monotonous feel of the Hoth mission. She felt like she was hiding from him, staying in her tiny room only to come out for her duties, but she found the shameful feeling to be much better than confronting him.

Today, though, she sits at the one table in the main living space of the tiny base. It is one of the few areas in the base with constant heat, and it is much more spacious than her constricting room. It’s rather sparse and lacking much of anything, but she desperately needs a change in her everyday Hoth routine or she may go mad.

Cassian is raking a hand over his face, acknowledging the fact that he should probably shave, when he comes into the main room.

They make unsteady eye contact. It isn’t the first time since Scarif, of course, but it is just as uncomfortable as every other time between then and now. There’s unspoken emotions between them that leaves an awkward air hanging in the space. It's no longer as warm and cozy as Jyn had thought.

She gets up, pushing her chair back suddenly with a loud noise; her oatmeal is practically untouched, and Cassian knows for a fact that the Jyn he knows would never pass up a meal. Too many days gone without food in her childhood had left her with an habit of eating as if she couldn't verify her next meal.

“You can stay. It won’t bother me.” He says, a little gruffly. He wasn’t sure the last time he had talked on this damn planet. It came out scratchy and unsteady, which made him wince. Cassian wonders if it were the right thing to say- it came out quickly, without thought, but perhaps he needs not to think so much.

Jyn doesn’t say a word, but slowly sits back in her chair, burying her face in her mug of caf. Her fingers are jittery, nervous and uncomfortable, drumming on her knee.

Cassian grabs his breakfast and begins to eat, however unappetizing it may seem to his hungover stomach. Their knees brush under the table as he adjusts himself, and he feels her jolt back from the unwanted interaction. It makes his heart sink.

That’s when he decides that he's is sick of the empty bottles, of the long, sleepless nights, of the uneasy feelings of longing and loneliness. To hell with it, he decides.

He drops his spoon, settling back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, since he has to have some sort of barrier there nonetheless.

“Let’s talk.”

Jyn swallows, even though she had long finished her weak caf. Her green eyes are nervous and he can see the uneasiness. He notices little things about her that he hadn't gotten a chance to see the past few weeks- she has dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks seem more hollow and pale. Cassian considers that maybe this has been bothering her just as much as it has him; that gives him the push to continue the conversation.

“I’m not sure there is much to talk about.” Jyn says, and she musters enough steadiness to look him straight in the eye; if he hadn’t known her like the back of his hand, it would’ve been convincing. She's not a brilliant spy for nothing. “I’ve done my rounds on the western planet side this week-”

“That’s not it.” Cassian says, shaking his head. His unkempt hair falls into his eyes; God, he really needed to pay more attention to himself.

Jyn shrugs, feigning confusion. There’s a little twitch of her nose, her telling sign that she knows exactly what his is referencing.

He opens his mouth, unsure of what to say, a million phrases and thoughts going through his brain. He’d been with others, of course, but none like this. None with the tricky emotions and damned feelings involved. None so complicated. It was a trap, a minefield he was navigating blindly.

“I care about you.” Cassian says, and he immediately feels stupid. He was never fluent and emotional with words, not like Chirrut.

“And I you, of course.” Jyn says, and her eyebrows furrow as if this were a test. Of course they cared about one another; Rogue One was a testimony to that.

“More than I do Chirrut or Baze or Bodhi.” Cassian admits, and his hand is fiddling with his blaster sheath, a nervous tick he thought he’d disguised years ago. His stomach is in knots. He feels like he may even stutter, which is so unlike him that it disgusts him.

“Hell, more than I do Kay.” Cassian says, looking around as if the droid may pop out, hellbent on revenge. Jyn is watching his every word falling from his mouth as if it's gospel; he takes that as a sign to go on.

“It feels awful between us. I thought whatever I felt would pass. It didn’t- God, it didn’t. I didn’t realize how badly I needed you until we had this come between us. I don’t think there’s anyone else I would’ve wanted to be with on the beach on Scarif-”

And suddenly there isn’t a table between them, because Jyn as lunged across it.

Her lips are on his, soft and chapped and completely Jyn, and he is happy he isn’t speaking anymore because his heart is heaving into his chest. Her hand is fisted in his parka, his hands threaded through her hair, and everything feels right for once. Her mouth is moving against his, and his eyes are closed and it's nice to finally feel like not everything in his life is going to hell.

“I’m sorry,” Jyn mutters after she’s given him a chance to breathe; her eyes are shining and her lips are bright red, twisted into a small grin. “I’m completely awful with words.”

And he laughs, because that is a perfectly Jyn thing to do. She's breathing heavily, her hair a complete mess around her face. He didn’t think he had ever found her more beautiful.

He pulls her back in for another kiss, tugging her completely across the table and firmly into his arms.

He’s found that Hoth isn’t nearly as cold when there are two.


End file.
